


Hating to Engage

by velocitygrass



Series: Compatible Engagement [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>For as long as John can remember his father has been very proud of the fact that he is a cycler.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hating to Engage

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cycle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/54674) by [lavvyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan). 



> This is the counterpart to "Waiting to Engage" and chronicles John's life from childhood to just before he meets Rodney. It includes many instances of John engaging various men and John dating men and women as well as his marriage to Nancy and a relationship with an OMC.
> 
> Content notes/warnings: This universe includes uncontrollable physical sexual reactions based on random genetic compatibility. There are consensual and non-consensual occurrences of these so-called "engagements". This story includes non-consensual engagements between adult and minor, and with a dying/dead person; brief discussion of problems of engagements in step families; and mention of many other engagements with questionable consent, involving married people, resulting in pregnancy, or just casual.

For as long as John can remember his father has been very proud of the fact that he is a cycler.

John's mother was not compatible to his father. His father still worshiped the ground she walked on, but he could not engage her. This didn't mean however that he didn't engage at all.

John vividly remembers the first time he witnessed an engagement by either of his parents. He'd been home from school early, and when he'd gone to his room, he'd seen his father engaging their nanny against his bed. He'd immediately turned and run.

He'd wondered if his mother knew about this and if she was okay with it. John understood that it was a physical reaction, but it still didn't feel right that his father did something like that with someone who wasn't his mother.

He had a hard time facing his father and his nanny later that day, but he tried to tell himself that it was natural and unavoidable. Accidents like this were a part of everyday life.

It took a few more years for John to understand that it wasn't an accident that his father had engaged his nanny. Finding a compatible wasn't unusual in any case and some cyclers had more compatibles than others, making engagements for those cyclers relatively frequent. But seeing the sheer number of compatible females that worked for his father in some capacity—young, good-looking compatibles—eventually opened John's eyes to the fact that there was a design to the reality that there wasn't a cycle during which his father didn't engage at least several times.

By that time John had reached puberty and his father was eagerly waiting for his son's first engagement. "You're a cycler, John. It's in your blood," he'd said, possibly trying to re-assure him.

John didn't want any re-assurances. In fact, he was holding out the hope that he wasn't a cycler. Not that being a compatible was so much better. He'd been quite horrified when he'd seen a guest engage his mother at one of their parties. He'd gone to his room, determined to just stay there as he always had as kid, but his father had called him back outside and told him that he should be glad that he was soon a grown-up. "This is where you meet all the important people. Just wait for your first engagement, and you'll understand that it's a good thing."

John was fourteen when he entered his first cycle. He woke up with the feeling of his skin buzzing and the knowledge that there was no defying fate—or the will of Patrick Sheppard. John hadn't even wanted to say anything, but his father had just looked at him, and John had scratched his neck and dropped his gaze.

His father had slapped him on the shoulder heartily, saying proudly, "I knew it!" Then he called all servants together, except his mother's nurse. He announced the great news and then, to John's horror, began to ask all female compatibles to touch John. John wanted to leave, but his father kept his hands on his shoulders, refusing to let go, until his mother appeared at the top of the stairs, looking weak and pale in her nightgown.

"Patrick, let him be," she said, and finally his father relented. "Why don't you come with me, John?" she asked, and he quickly ran upstairs and helped her back to bed.

"You can't avoid it, John," she said. "And maybe, maybe you'll even enjoy it."

John really doubted that, but he wasn't going to disagree with his mother. He kept his gaze on the ground.

"I do. Not always, but often," she added.

This made him look up. He was unable to put into words why he didn't want to engage. He didn't have to be a cycler like his father. He could try to avoid people on his cycle, and when an accident happened, he could enjoy it. It wasn't as if he wasn't masturbating. He was, quite often, and he really liked it. But something still felt so very wrong about the idea of engagements to him. "Maybe," he allowed, because he couldn't lie to his mother, and there was the possibility that she would be right and that he would enjoy engaging.

Like for many others John's first engagement happened at school. After nothing had happened for several cycles in which John had been anxious about what was almost certainly unavoidable, John had relaxed to the point where he didn't expect it. He was helping a guy hanging up some announcement posters for the band, and when he handed him the Scotch tape the continuous buzz suddenly flared up like lightning had hit him.

Seemingly without any input from him they were over each other, groins pressing together, mouths not so much kissing as clashing, and hands everywhere but mostly on his skin that seemed to have a life of its own. The whole thing lasted less than a minute.

Afterwards John awkwardly said, "I guess we should, uh, clean up," desperately trying to think of an excuse not to go to the same bathroom as the guy. "I think I'll go ahead and take a shower. See you around." And then he made a run for it.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the whole thing. The act itself hadn't been bad. Really, it had felt quite hot he had to admit. And the fact that it was someone he didn't know very well was good too. But something still felt off. He scrubbed himself off in the shower. He didn't immediately get out once he was done. He was glad that he'd gotten it over with and that it hadn't been as bad as expected, but still the idea that it could happen and most probably would happen again was making him a bit sick. He didn't know when it would happen or how and with whom. He could step out of the shower and be unlucky and run into another compatible. He could be compatible to one of his teachers. He could be compatible to one of his father's friends.

He had no idea what his father would say about the fact that he was compatible to men. As far as John knew, his father had never engaged another man. He kept introducing John to a seemingly endless supply of female compatibles at their parties, and since they couldn't keep their fingers off him, John could only suspect that his father told them each and every time when he was on his cycle. But he'd been compatible to none of them—to his great relief and his father's frustration.

His father would be happy to hear that it had finally happened. And as much as he disagreed with his father on many things, he wanted him to be happy. And at the moment there was almost nothing that could even soften the sadness of watching John's mother slowly fade away.

During one of the last discussions John had with his mother, she told him that whatever he felt was all right and that he should never let his father tell him otherwise.

John's main problem though was that he didn't know what to feel. He didn't want to judge his father or other people for enjoying their engagements. His peers _loved_ them. While the church and those living according to its gospel preached no sex before marriage and especially not for teenagers, engagements were sanctioned by them as given by God.

You'd often find people looking for compatibles to date or just to engage with on their cycles. John on the other hand did everything in his power to avoid it. He wore long sleeves during his cycle, even in summer. His father wasn't happy and he drew the line at gloves. "Absolutely not! I forbid it. You should be proud of what you are. Instead you not only want to hide it, you want to wear the symbol of the anti-cycler movement? Their tool of oppression?"

After his mother's death, the only voice of reason that actually dared to speak to him in encouragement was their nanny. Cynthia made sure that he had shirts with sleeves so long that he could pull them over his hands during his cycle and always gave him an understanding smile when he argued with his father once again.

"Why do you keep working for him?" he asked her one time.

She thought about it for a moment. "Your father is a good man, John. Not everything he does is right, but who can say that of himself?"

"You don't mind that he...? Whenever he feels like it?" John asked, the image of what he'd seen as a child still burnt into his mind.

"I'm compatible to him. When he feels like it, so do I," she said, as if that were all there was to it.

John didn't want to accept it. His second engagement was with another guy who handed him a soda after football training. It was that same mix of white-hot pleasure and helpless lack of control. Though this time, John's mind rebelled against what was happening, even as his body undulated against the other guy until they both came.

People thought he was weird for not wanting to engage. Some called him frigid or goody-two-shoes. Some called him a faggot, because his two engagements had been with guys.

Compatibility wasn't necessarily aligned with sexual orientation. John suspected that he was only compatible to guys. Two engagements were, of course, no way to be sure, but something inside him told him that he'd never engage a woman. And part of him thought it would be great. It would allow him to have a wife with whom he'd only have sex out of love. Like his father had with his mother.

John dated a few girls, but in most cases he realized he preferred them as friends. And in the back of his mind was the fear that when he was with a girl and touching her during his cycle, she might turn out to be a compatible after all.

His father became suspicious when John's third engagement turned out to be with another guy. He didn't say anything, but his disapproval was obvious.

"Did you like the guy?" Cynthia asked him carefully.

"It was an engagement," John told her flatly.

"Do you find nothing about them enjoyable? I mean...doesn't it feel good for you?"

"It feels...okay. I just wish...I had a choice about when and how and _with whom_ it happened."

Cynthia clasped his shoulder, smiling at him understandingly. Though he wasn't sure she understood. Her engagements with his father seemed to be no problem to her.

John's brother turned out to be a cycler too. John watched the familiar scene. His father called his female compatible servants, and Dave shook hands with each of them as they congratulated him. As if the purpose wasn't to give Dave his very first engagement. At least, Dave seemed to be fairly okay with it.

John wasn't sure if his father would have listened to any protests, now that their mother wasn't there to put a stop to it. He looked at Cynthia, who stood next to him, and they exchanged a somber smile, when it suddenly occurred to him that his father hadn't called her to the meeting too.

He knew that Dave hadn't touched her yet, because Dave had stormed out of his room shouting out the news just after he jumped out of bed. John knew that Cynthia wasn't special to his father, so it wasn't that. There was no reason to assume she couldn't be compatible to Dave. That only happened with—John froze.

He looked at Dave who had always looked remarkably different than John. His mother had had a difficult time when she'd been pregnant with him. She had left to live in their California vacation home for the duration of the pregnancy and she'd taken Cynthia with her, which looking back didn't even make a lot of sense. Of course, he'd been a very young boy at the time, so he hadn't questioned the wisdom of letting the nanny go with his mother while their housekeeper took care of John.

He didn't know what to say. He looked at Cynthia, who seemed to know what he'd just realized. "He's a good man," she said. "But your mother was a _great_ woman."

John couldn't remember his mother ever treating Dave differently. She'd always loved him as she had John and knowing what he did now, he loved his mother even more. He felt bad for Cynthia, though. She could have had a family of her own, a son whom she could openly call her own, instead she'd agreed to live a lie. John didn't think he could tell his brother. This wasn't a decision he could make. At least not now. Maybe in the future when Dave moved out and wasn't aware that he had a father _and_ a mother to visit.

Seeing the impact engagements could have on a life, John felt more comfortable with his own feelings about them. He resolved not to engage anymore. The next time it happened—with another guy inevitably—he tried to control his body to the point where he could push the guy away.

"Are you nuts?" the guy asked and then threw himself on John. It was hard enough to stop engaging, against his own bodies undeniable wishes, but to do it when the compatible didn't want to stop was impossible. John sank to the ground and let it happen, feeling both the lust overcome him, hating the guy for taking away what little control he could muster, but also hating himself for wanting to withhold from the guy what he needed. Because if it wasn't as if the guy had a say in whom he was compatible to either.

He didn't tell anyone about what he'd tried. He'd failed spectacularly and in the end, he wondered if it wasn't pointless to fight something that was basic human nature.

Shortly after this, John starts dating another student. She's nice and funny and pretty smart and adores John. John just loves being around her. And he has sex with her. It's his first time—because John refuses to count the engagements—and it's just like his girlfriend, nice and funny. But it's not as hot as engaging. It's the same for the second and third time and the times after, and John hates himself that he even thinks about comparing the two.

He doesn't think he's gay. He doesn't want to consider it. He knows that his father would say that it's only the engagements and the fact that he only seems to be compatible to men that confuses him. He keeps telling John that he'll find a compatible woman. John not only doesn't believe it, but even so he wouldn't want a relationship to be about cycling. He doesn't want it to rule his life in that way. And he certainly doesn't want his compatibility to determine his sexual orientation. Just because he's only compatible to men doesn't mean he's gay.

John's first real contact with the cycling choice movement is in college. It's the first time that he hears others asking if it's okay to say no to this "natural" thing. John feels relieved to have found people who understand him, but his relief is short-lived.

The cycling choice movement in college—and probably everywhere else in the world where it develops—is despite its name mostly about the choice of compatibles. Historically the name was chosen to claim the cycling and the control it affords for compatibles too. Since then it has evolved to cover the choice of cyclers too, in theory at least. In reality John feels like an outsider as the only cycler there and he can't help feeling that people view him with suspicion so he stays away.

A guy asks him out on a date. John still doesn't consider himself gay or bisexual. But he's come to the conclusion that he's not really interested in women, so he gives it a shot. He's also a bit nervous about the possibility that the guy is compatible to him, but luckily he's not on his cycle. They have a drink and end up in the guy's dorm room. They make out on his bed, but John can't really get into it. They jerk each other off, but it's nowhere near as hot as the engagements he's had.

John wonders if he's asexual. Though he dismisses the thought as he does enjoy masturbation quite a bit. And the engagements...he's afraid that engagements might be the only way for him to really get into sex with other people. The thought is horrifying to him. He doesn't want to depend on something that makes him feel completely helpless and out of control. He wants to have a say in whom he dates.

There are engagements, of course. John doesn't try to push the guy away any longer when it happens. Instead he tries to keep control enough to see what the compatible wants.

There are "Don't engage me" buttons for the purpose, but they are seldom worn because they can't prevent accidental engagements and because they are seen as radical even by many who might prefer not to engage. They've become associated with a part of the movement that would like to enforce a general no-touching rule for cyclers during their cycle which goes further than even most cycling choice supporters would want to go. As a result the button is sometimes seen as a provocation and can have the opposite effect of making cyclers touch people wearing them out of spite.

Whenever John sees such a button, he feels a certain amount of sympathy and longing. He'd love to live in a world where it would be perfectly acceptable to not shake hands during his cycle and signal that people should be careful not to touch him. But he knows that this world doesn't exist, so he does the only thing he can do. He keeps his distance from people with such a button during his cycle, to make sure that at least _he_ doesn't engage them. And he keeps looking out for signs from guys who turn out to be compatible to him even if they do not wear such a button.

One such guy asks John for a pen while he walks around campus. Their bodies react the moment John's fingers brush against his, but unlike the other times this happened to John, the guy is clearly struggling, so John helps him and pushes himself away. It's the first time that he touches a compatible during his cycle and doesn't engage. The guy moves up on shaky legs, taking a step away out of John's reach. "Thank you," he says. "I...thank you."

John feels like _he_ should be the one thanking the guy. It's the first time he was able to control what happened. They part ways without another word, but John revels in what happened and longs for that feeling of control, of helping people, of leading people.

His father isn't happy when he joins the Air Force.

John loves it. There's no touching during training for cyclers during their cycle, and in critical situations it's allowed, no encouraged, to wear gloves—without the connotations that doing so usually has. It's simply a matter of being practical in situations where no distraction must be allowed, even one as natural as engagements.

There are engagements, of course. The military has special engagement rooms that anyone can use while not on duty. They give the troops a sexual outlet if they want it. John uses the rooms. Going there for the purpose of engaging finally gives him the control that he so sorely misses when they occur elsewhere. He even enjoys the engagements, but cannot help the slight feeling of guilt for letting his cycling dictate his whole sex life.

It's always men. What had been a feeling when John was younger was statistically very probable at this point. He is only compatible to men. It doesn't really matter to him either way. He doesn't have relationships with the men he engages, even if it's always the same selection of compatibles.

He also doesn't feel as judgmental about other cyclers here. The engagement rooms give everyone a choice to participate. Intellectually he knows that most of the men and women here will have random engagements during their cycle when they're off base. Maybe they're even like his father, actively seeking out compatibles to engage. But while on base, he can pretend that whether or not to engage during a cycle is a choice for all involved.

Later John isn't quite sure why he married Nancy.

Maybe it was because she didn't touch him without his invitation. His father never really stopped pushing John at women during their parties, especially during his cycle. Some pretend it's a normal handshake. Some seem quite eager. Some smile at him awkwardly.

Nancy smiled genuinely at John, and when she saw John's hesitation as his father made their introductions, she put her hand on her purse demonstratively, making John sigh in relief. He was pretty certain that he wasn't compatible to women, but the whole thing still was very humiliating to him, and the idea that he'd engage someone with all invited guests looking on seemed like a nightmare. Whenever he saw it happen between one of their guests he walked away to the other end of the room or outside or inside, whatever allowed him to escape.

His dad still loved Nancy. She turned out to be cycler, one of the comparatively few female ones, which pleased his father immensely. The "right kind of woman" he called her. John chose to take it at approval for her specifically instead of wondering if his father had considered his mother the "wrong" kind of woman. He knew his father didn't. But when it came to cycling, John had learned to think the worst when it came to his father.

Sex with Nancy is nice. John doesn't try to think about the fact that it's not as hot as engaging. Marriage isn't about sex. Nancy is a great person. The fact alone that both John _and_ his father like her so much speaks volumes.

When John sees his wife engage someone for the first time, he feels weirdly dispassionate about it. He doesn't even walk away. He doesn't look either, but he just stands there and helps Nancy up afterwards. He feels that he should care about it more. But then his father and those of his kind would say that it would be ridiculous to find anything wrong with such a natural act. He doesn't want to become his father, though.

And he isn't. The first time he engages someone while he's going out with Nancy, his first instinct is to push him away. Since the guy doesn't also push, though, it still happens and John lets it happen without further protest. Nancy still notices and asks him why. "It's not a problem for me. You must know that. Why would it be?" When John cannot really answer it, feeling uncomfortable in his sticky pants, she continues quietly, "Is it a problem for you when _I_ engage someone?"

"No," he says truthfully. It _is_ okay. Hell, even what his father does is okay. For them. But not for himself. Not inside his own head. And especially not while his wife is standing next to him. He doesn't tell her that, though. He can't.

When he's back on his next deployment, John doesn't go to the engagement rooms any longer. He knows that Nancy wouldn't mind, that she wouldn't understand why he would even think about this. So he doesn't tell her.

John is proud of his service, of what he does for his country. That he has to keep much of it a secret wasn't a big problem before he married Nancy, but now he sees it affecting his marriage. It's only a little thing, but it creeps into their lives along with other little things. Nancy, like John's father, is very self-confident when she's cycling. She likes to go out as if her body is telling her to maximize the chances of finding a compatible. It doesn't disturb John the way it disturbs him when his father does it, but seeing her like that, casually touching people who welcome it, makes him feel like something is fundamentally wrong with him for not being like that.

Nancy never says anything when he tells her he'd like to stay home on his cycle. But he knows that she doesn't understand it. And when it comes down to it, neither does he. He enjoyed the engagements in the engagement rooms. He enjoyed them so much that sometimes he thinks of them when he sleeps with his wife. And he hates that. He hates that he seems to be the only person who cannot completely delineate sex from engaging.

All his life, what he really wanted was to be free from letting his cycling define him, and yet here he is, in a job that finally gave him the control over it he so desperately wanted, married to a woman whom his father admires for her cycling and whom John first noticed because of the way she treated him _on his cycle_.

They're married for one and a half years, when they both have to admit that their relationship isn't going anywhere. They live completely different lives, and it has little to do with his deployments and all to do with the fact that they don't have much common ground beyond their upbringing and social status. His father is more disappointed than John is.

John isn't completely indifferent to the demise of his marriage, but his regrets aren't so much about not being able to make it work, but more about the fact that he should have seen this sooner, that he shouldn't have let the superficial good match they made blind him to reality. Most of all though the fact, that he didn't love her. It took his divorce and asking himself when he stopped loving Nancy to come to the only conclusion he had. That he'd never loved her in the first place.

Nancy remained a friend of the family, to his father's delight. John didn't mind. And he was back to being alone. Which he didn't mind too much either. His job was his life. And now that he wasn't married any longer, he felt free to go back to the engagement rooms.

He's still conflicted about it though. It feels like cycling had a part in his marriage and its inevitable ending. Though the bigger thing was probably that he's gay.

He finally admits this to himself when he starts dating a guy and sex is really hot for him for the first time outside of an engagement. The guy is not compatible to him, and it makes John feel more comfortable about their relationship. Because it's not about his cycling.

They have to hide the relationship of course. The irony is that if they _were_ compatible they would be allowed to date. The Air Force, like all branches of the military, has a special exception to the prohibition of open service for compatible partners. It's not a factor for John, though. He would never use his cycling for that purpose. He's abhorred that there needs to be an exception at all, when there is no good reason not to allow openly gay people to serve. But that's how the world is. He's sure things would be different if there were more men only engaging other men.

He doesn't like to see his boyfriend engaged. It's actually a relief that he feels this way and isn't as indifferent as he was with Nancy, but he knows that it's not considered normal, so he doesn't talk about it. He doesn't go to engagement rooms when he's deployed, and at home, he does what he's done for years now. He lets it happen but only for the sake of his compatible. And he looks for any sign of resistance. It hardly ever comes though. Only once does the guy push him away and John does the same, making it possible for them to avoid the engagement. It's the second time in his life, and this time John isn't happy so much as numb, because this isn't really control. Waiting for that one guy among dozens that will not just give in to "nature" has made him weary. In the end, relief when it comes, it only fleeting. The next compatible could be just around the corner after all.

Mark doesn't mind John engaging someone. John wouldn't have expected anything else. But it still bothers John. But he doesn't say anything, because he knows that he wouldn't be able to make him understand, because he cannot explain what he still doesn't understand himself.

They split up as friends eventually. "It's okay not to want to engage," Mark tells John when they part. He was always quite perceptive, and it shouldn't be a real surprise that he noticed how John felt. "It's _your_ decision too," Mark continues. "It's also okay to _want_ to engage. It would be okay to want to engage your partner only or to engage anyone _except_ your partner. It's all okay. But you have to make up your mind, so that you can do what is right for you and so that others can do what you _want_."

What John really wants is to be an incompatible, that mythical non-cycler who isn't compatible to anyone—or to few enough to never meet them. But that wish won't come true, and he still doesn't know what he wants.

He continues the purposeful, controlled engagements in the special engagement rooms, even though they leave him empty. He also dates guys if he meets someone who's interesting and whom he trusts. One guy turns out to be a compatible and he engages him at the end of their first date, but it leaves John feeling too out of control, so he doesn't see him again.

The perfect control that he thought the military provided comes to an end on one mission in Afghanistan, where he's sent out even though he's on his cycle. They're evacuating homes and come upon a terrified looking teen. He doesn't want to leave and John doesn't know what to do. He can't really blame the kid. They've stormed in in full battle gear, covered from head to toe. John comes closer slowly, lifting his gloved hands to signal that he doesn't want to do any harm. But they don't have time, so eventually he's prepared to carry the boy out by force, when he hits John in the face and John's body crumples with a surge of lust. It's so completely unexpected that he just falls down with the teen, who's throwing his arms around him as he convulses against John. It's over in seconds, and John quickly straightens and gets up. The boy trusts him enough now to go without protest.

John finishes the mission, because it's what you do when you're out there. But when he returns to the base and finally realizes what the fucking hell just happened, he's no longer conflicted about what he wants. He doesn't want this. He does not want to engage. He stops going to the engagement rooms with their false control. He has one-night-stands with men and during his cycle with women. He has no relationships.

It works in Afghanistan and on base at home. But when he visits his father he can't avoid the party his father throws in his honor. John never should have come here during his cycle. It's his bad luck that there is actually a compatible guy there whom he can't avoid engaging. He's happy to be back at home where he can control where he goes during his cycle. He even buys a panic button for his home. When others ask—not that he has many people visit—he pretends it's in case a compatible wants it. People think he is being overly considerate, but they just force an awkward smile to their face and leave it alone.

He tries to go to an engagement self-help group. It's not as political as the cycling choice movement, so John hopes that _maybe_ he'll find like-minded cyclers and that it isn't only about compatibles being engaged against their will. It isn't, but the few cyclers that he meets there are nothing like him. One man is distraught because his stepdaughter turned out to be compatible to him and now a simple hug bears the danger of an engagement and he's afraid of what happens when she falls off her bike or a tree or any of the things that will make a father of a twelve-year-old rush out to help without thinking.

Compatibility in step-families seems to be a common problem and then there are the people who are unable to get aroused without engaging and all of it leaves John feeling terrified but almost normal in comparison. He doesn't go there again. He isn't compatible to anyone he considers family and he likes sex and even has good sex with guys. He just hasn't found the right guy yet.

He's glad to be back in Afghanistan. Despite the incident with the Afghan boy, he feels safe here for the most part. On base, there are no problems and when he interacts with others on missions he is extra-vigilant now when he's on his cycle. He's at peace with the situation.

But of course, his cycling has a thing or two to say about that. It's as if it has a life of its own and whenever John takes too much control it has to rear its ugly head to put him in his place.

The mission was doomed from the start. If there's one thing about it that John doesn't regret, it's his decision to go back and try to save his men, no matter what his commanding officer ordered him to do. To find two of them dead is like a punch in the gut, but there's Holland who's still alive, who can still make it. At least that's what John keeps telling himself, though Holland seems to know better. He insists that John leave him to die, that he's already dead. John refuses, even though a part of him knows that it's true, can see it in Holland's eyes. But John cannot give up, so he fights and in that moment where he's willing to use force so that Holland won't give up, where he's literally fighting a battle to death, _against_ death, Holland touches his face and John realizes he's compatible, as his body takes over.

Holland is dead by the time John can bring himself to look at him after rolling off his body as soon as he's come. John doesn't even know if he died during the engagement or after. Not that it makes a whole lot of difference. John starts laughing hysterically. Then he starts to choke and throws up.

John came to terms with the fact that he didn't want to engage after the incident with the Afghan boy. After what happened with Holland, he makes the decision to do everything in his power to never let it happen again.

His apartment at home is decked out with panic buttons in every room. He wears gloves and a turtleneck when he needs to leave the house during his cycle. On missions his wears a mask in addition to his gloves.

He tries one of the self-help groups again. But it's even worse this time. A guy can't help hurting the people he engages, and while the others are full of sympathy and understanding, John feels only contempt and disgust.

His father throws him out of the house when he refuses to remove the gloves during his cycle. But John doesn't care. He will not compromise. He wasn't brainwashed or pressured. It's about _his_ needs and wants. Far too long he tried to be considerate. No more.

It still somehow happens one day. He's helping a guy out who's bought a ladder and wants to put it on his transporter. John's sleeve must have slipped up. But this time he fights it tooth and nail, until the guy rolls away.

The triumph that he feels in that moment is hollow, though.

How can he pretend that he's won when every aspect of his life is controlled by his cycle? He doesn't leave the house until he has to during his cycle. He chose his job in part for the safety from engaging there. And he stops having sex with anyone, because he doesn't want to date a cycler and he's too afraid to be compatible to a compatible to even take that chance. He could have one-night-stands when he's not on his cycle, but John no longer sees the point.

If he only wants to get off he can do that by himself. And when he does, he fantasizes about a faceless man and it's passionate and hot, but it's not engaging.


End file.
